


A Study of Stairways

by sparkstarthetrashcan



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bittersweet Ending, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Possible Lovers, Friendship, Ghost!Peter, Humor, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, Pansexual Wade Wilson, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peters a dork, Pining, SPBB2018, Spideypool Big Bang, Spideypool Big Bang 2018, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, Wades a dork, Wades a loudly supportive friend, anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkstarthetrashcan/pseuds/sparkstarthetrashcan
Summary: Wade Wilson is a bad student. Poor grades, no attention span and not a soul to help him. Even if he tries to study he’s always distracted by his phone or a supernaturally attractive boy who showed up out of nowhere, whispering answers in his ear.Peter, almost got into Harvard, Parker spends his time tutoring students. He’s smart enough and he’s got nothing else to do, so he might as well. But Wade’s different. He doesn’t seem to want Peter for his brain like everyone else, Wade cares about him.Problem is, Peter isn’t normal. He’s a ghost.русский перевод





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to all my betas who helped me make this story a masterpiece! All your work made this fic into something so much better. I couldn't have done it without all of you!

When people say studying is easy, they are lying liars who lie.

English never did anything for anyone! No one cares about the symbolism! Go suck on a lollipop if you want to talk about how “they mentioned once in chapter 15, line 65 about how they own a blue phone case, that  ** _must_  **mean that they have DepReSSIoN.”

Anyone with half a brain cell knows depression Does Not Work Like That! A blue thing is a blue thing! The sky is blue, but I don’t see teachers falling all over themselves when a character so much as  _dares_ to mention it. Not everything has to be deep!

Don’t even get me started on math! I don’t want to find x! No one wants to find x! Exes are bad enough already; we don’t need x’s souring things even more!

Frustrated, I slammed the textbook down onto the table. Who cares if it’s a library! I will be as loud as I want with this stuff. No one deserves to be tortured by this!

Who cares! Anything was better than torturous math. I would do something else. Even if I had to bike home in this weather.

“X is 28,” someone whispered, and I may or may not have jumped hard enough to smack my knees on the table and squeal like a little kid. Nope. That’s not a thing that would ever happen to an upstanding member of society like me. Not a fearless person like me!

I knew there wasn’t anyone but me and the librarian here, everyone else had already gone home. I looked around and there was no one there, exactly as it had been mere minutes before.

Great! I was jumping at ghosts.

“Alrighty then… back to suffering…” I murmured to myself, picking the book back up and trying my best to concentrate.

I had an hour left.  _Just_ had to survive this boredom until five-thirty. I had nothing better to do but study and I hated it. Better than trying to do this at home!

I could see the librarian Mrs Vera half asleep on her computer in the corner and I felt sort of sorry for her. It would be a lot more comfortable to sleep on a bed, a sofa, literally anything else because I would hate to know what pins and needles feel like on your face.

Okay, back down to business.

~Let’s get down to business, to defeat, BUMP BUMP, the HUNS! ~

Ah, Mulan, you never fail me...

“Seriously, it’s 28,” the voice said and this time I didn’t jump again. Whoever told you that was lying.

“And why should I trust you, mysterious voice?” I demanded, putting my book back down again.

The voice sighed and a moment later there was a boy in front of me. I blinked a few times and looked around before looking back at him.

He was wearing a worn blue hoodie and sweatpants as if he was purposefully walking around wearing a neon sign of ‘I’m tired!’. He had curly, short brown hair and the most adorable freckles all over his face. I wanted to pinch his cheeks!

“I swear you weren’t there a moment ago,” I said slowly. Maybe I had just been too invested in my homework? Yep, surely that was why I hadn’t noticed him.

“I wasn’t there a moment ago,” the kid confirmed as he disappeared from plain sight. He vanished! But… then he was back in front of me after he finished talking?

My jaw fell to the floor.

“I’m seeing things, aren’t I,” I managed to get out, voice faint.

The ghost kid sighed, and he disappeared again. “No, you aren’t. Unfortunately.” When he came back he was staring down at his feet, shuffling them absently.

“… So, I am seeing a ghost? Wait! Are you that school ghost I’ve heard like one person talk about?!” I exclaimed, standing up.

I had moved here a couple weeks ago, and I had heard a few people mention a ghost, about how it was haunting the school.

Ok, so when I said “a few” I meant one. And it had only been in passing. I mean, who wouldn’t eavesdrop when someone says ‘ghost?’ It could be an actual ghost or someone ghosting someone online and drama was oh so deliciously juicy!

I had never expected it to be true!

Instead of speaking to answer me, he nodded, looking sort of… resigned?

A ghost! An actual ghost! They were real! I was meeting a ghost!

“Well, nice to meet you! I’m Wade,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.

His face fell, and it took a moment for me to realize that maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to ask a ghost to shake hands. I awkwardly retracted my hand, wincing. Right. The poor thing probably hadn’t been able to touch anything for years.

So that meant no hugs... That’s gotta suck.

Well, I never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. More like a shovel. Round. Still useful! But round.

“… I’m Peter,” Ghost kid- Peter replied after an awkward pause, smiling softly.

Oh no, he’s cute.

“So, what’s a ghost like you doing around a place like this?” I asked, leaning back with a huge grin all over my face. Peter rolled his eyes and folded his arms though he still looked relaxed. My grin only widened.

This was the most interesting thing that had happened since… since I had no idea when! Homework could wait. I had a cute ghost to flirt with!

Peter’s smile grew, “Haunting, making people shiver, you know, the usual.”

“Sounds like fun. Oh, you must know all the best places to hang out around school!” I exclaimed. Mrs Vera snored loudly, interrupting us, and we both stopped to stare in her direction.

“She won‘t wake up, trust me,” Peter whispered, a fond smile on his face.

“She was here when you were alive?” I queered, tilting my head to the side.

He nodded, turning back to look at me. “I haven’t been dead too long… I think. What year is it?”

“Twenty nineteen,” I answered, frowning. Did he not know what year it was? How long ago had he died if he doesn’t know…?

“So… it’s been eight years. That feels weird to think about. I would be twenty-five if I hadn’t died...” he said, flickering and reappearing a couple meters away.

“Did… did you pace? I couldn’t tell because you vanished and all that.” I chuckled.

His cheeks went red, “Yeah? Nervous habit, sorry. I know the vanishing stuff is weird, can’t help it.”

I leaned back in my seat. “Do you know why it happens?”

“No idea. It’s more annoying than anything, I guess.”

“But wait, aren’t you more… I don’t know, sad that you’re dead?” I asked quietly, leaning forward.

His smile fell. “Time flows different for me, it feels like no time has passed and like it’s been centuries at the same time. I’ve… come to terms with it? It’s fine.” That was definitely a voice crack. His voice cracked! I felt even worse for asking now. I didn’t want to make him cry!

Before I could try to comfort him or something, his eyes had already strayed over to my discarded books. “Do you want help with those?”

“Don’t see why not, but gotta warn you; I am terrible at school work. Period. You will get frustrated with me,” I warned him.

He grinned even wider. “I have little to do _besides_ help kids with school work. Trust me you’ll be better than some other kids I’ve helped.”

I leaned forward, hands supporting my head. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Prepare to have a ghost whispering in your ear, all day every day, until you graduate from this school. This’ll be fun!” He continued as if I had said nothing at all.

* * *

 

For as exciting as it was to meet a ghost, my life didn’t change much after our first meeting. I was still a loner, still hung out at the library and still had lunch with Bob. Bob was great. I could play as many pranks as I wanted on him and not get in trouble.

The only major difference was how my math grades shot through the roof. I was doing well for the first time in, well, forever!

Oh, and I looked insane as I talked to him because it turns out not everyone could see him. So it looked like I was talking to thin air. Luckily for me, I was used to being stared at! I had only seen one other person’s eyes bug out when I walked down the corridor with Peter in tow.

Peter even  _waved_ to the poor kid as he floated in mid-air, like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

“How do I solve this one again?” I whispered in my maths test, thankfully getting no weird looks from other classmates.

“You’ve got to take from both sides, remember?” Peter whispered back, even though I knew by now that no one else could hear him.

I nodded, just so Peter knew I understood and continued trying to solve it. Satisfied for the moment, he floated around the room to see what everyone else was doing.

A moment later, I had to stifle a snicker as Peter loudly proclaimed, “The answer is two! How on earth did you get three hundred and eighty-nine?!”

* * *

 

“So, you always hang out at the library after school?” Peter asked, floating on the table like he was lying on it. Honestly, I would do the same if I was him.

Though… I still wasn’t used to him flickering like an old movie. Like the  _really_ old ones where they had to put the character’s lines on a separate panel. But Peter didn’t bring it up, so I didn’t bring it up.

“It’s easier to get work done here than at home. I would have thought a dork like you would do the same,” I teased, stretching my arms over my head, barely holding back a yawn. I was looking forward to going home that was for sure. At this rate, I would bike home in the dark.

He chuckled, “You’ve got me there. Yeah, I loved hanging out here, lots of books to read, no one to judge me when I nerd out, people watching... I mean, what’s there not to love?”

“I bet that you were at the top of your class, am I right?” I asked, leaning forward like I was sharing a secret with him.

He side eyed me, “And what if I was?”

“I was wondering if the whole ‘smart enough to tutor even though I’m a ghost’ was because you have seen assignments ten times already or because you were smart before you died!” I exclaimed.

He laughed, “Thanks, I guess? I was aiming for this one scholarship. Trying to get into Harvard and all that. I think I would have gotten it if I hadn’t died.”

Even though he was still smiling, his smile faltered for a moment and he was looking everywhere but me.

“What did you want to become?” I asked quietly. I had asked nothing about before… this was new territory. I didn’t want him to hate me from asking.

“I wanted to be a nurse, maybe even a vet, anything like that really. My Aunt May was always really sick, and I wanted to help people like her,” he explained quietly, fiddling with his fingers.

“I could see you doing that. You could do pretty much anything, instead, you’re helping dumb kids like me get better grades,” I said with a shrug.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that I didn’t do well. I tried! I really did! But I guess I just wasn’t made for the American public school system...

He turned his head towards me and shrugged, “You’re smarter than you think, you know. I’ve had to basically hold peoples pens before to get them to do well.”

“Can you do that? Hold things?” I asked, excitement lighting up my eyes.

He laughed. It was super cute, his nose scrunching up, and I had to stop myself from swooning. “It takes a lot of energy. But sure, if you want to see it.”

I went to protest; I didn’t want him using up energy just for me! But before I had the chance, he had made his hand look opaquer and had the pen in his hand. He did it for a few seconds before going ghost again and letting it fall through his hand.

“Woah! That’s so cool!” I exclaimed, shooting to my feet.

He ducked his head shyly, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It so is! Imagine if you could see a ghost and  _they showed you they can sort of be in the mortal realm_!” I wanted to shake his shoulders to get sense into him, but I couldn’t, obviously.

“Okay, okay, I get the point. Shouldn’t we get back to your homework?” he asked, floating closer and over my books.

I shook my head, “No, it’s okay. I’ll do more work tomorrow.”

He looked at me doubtfully, crossing his arms.

“I will! Promise! It’s almost time for the library to close anyway,” I explained, pointing at the clock hanging in the corner.

“Alright, alright, fine. I sometimes forget that normal people need to sleep,” he said. “I’ll go with you as far as I can.”

“As far as you can? Are you confined to the school or something?” I asked, haphazardly throwing my notebooks into my bag as slowly as I could. If Peter asked, I totally wasn’t stalling or anything. Nope. Not at all.

“I think so? I can go out as far as the end of the field, but I can’t go past the office for some reason,” he explained, fiddling with his hands again.

“That’s… strange. So, you can’t get to the economics wing?” I asked as I swung my bag on to my back.

“No, I have no idea why it’s happening.” He shrugged. He still was avoiding eye contact.

“Do you have a theory?” I asked after a moment’s pause.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m used to it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? The school isn’t all that big in the first place,” I frowned, “Why won’t you tell me?”

Peter paced, aggravated. I knew that maybe I had pushed him too far by asking, but I still continued to prod when he stayed silent. “Peter?”

“It’s because I think it has something to do with where I’m buried...” his form flickering violently several seconds after he was done talking. He sighed heavily, “Just forget about it. I know I’m never leaving this place, okay? I’m fine.”

“Why? What’s stopping you from passing on?” I demanded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes darted around the place, refusing to look at me as I waited for an answer.

“I… I think someone murdered me…” His form flickered heavily before seemingly stabilizing. He sighed and went over to the edge of the table, sitting on it. “I don’t know why I died, okay? I had everything ahead of me and then I died in the school. No one… I’m still considered a missing person.”

He sniffed, wiping absently at his eyes. “I never had a funeral, I never got to give Aunt May closure. I don’t even know if she’s alive. I never got to say goodbye or tell her how much I loved her.”

I stood there awkwardly; I wanted to hug him and try to comfort him, but we both knew I would just go through him. I didn’t want to add insult to injury. But…

“What would happen…” I paused, grabbing his attention, “if I solved what happened to you?”

He shrugged, eyes darting to the side. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll finally leave this hellhole.” He huffed out a laugh. “Even if I am still a ghost, at least I’ll be a ghost in a cemetery with others.”

My hands tightened around my bag’s straps. “Alright. Let’s solve your murder.”

His head shot up. “What? No. It- It probably wasn’t even a murder. I just…” he flailed his arms around, I think he was trying to show him falling down the stairs? “I just-just tripped or something.”

“If you had just ‘tripped’ you wouldn’t be a missing person, would you? I will find out what happened to you, promise,” I said, giving him the biggest smile I could. I could do this for him!

He nodded slowly, a small frown on his face like he didn’t believe me. However, I could see the hesitant, but hopeful, glint in his eyes. Though I knew he’d deny it if I asked.

* * *

 

“Wade? What are you doing up this early?” Mrs Vera asked, sipping her coffee as she watched me come in. Her cool eighties jacket she always seemed to wear was crinkly but the bags under her eyes seemed to have shrunk from yesterday.

“Research for a friend,” I explained, shuffling my feet over the carpet as I went over to her desk. “I was wondering if I could look at the yearbooks?”

She waved a hand around, “Yeah, of course. Do you need me to show you where it is?”

“Please. How are you doing this morning?” I asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

She raised an eyebrow, “I never took you for a morning person.”

I smiled, “Not usually, but I really want to help this friend out.”

As she led me over, she seemingly decided to not pester me with questions about what I was really doing. She probably understood that it was too early in the morning for anything but coffee, let alone an interrogation. “Alright, here you go. Need any more help?”

I gazed over the books, spotting plenty of books dating back until the school was first founded. “No, I think I’ve found what I’m looking for.”

“Good to know. Just call me over if you need anything else.” And with that, she walked back over to her desk. I noticed her pulling her phone (with a glitter case) out of her pocket. Perfect.

I slowly scanned over the books, trying to find the right one. Peter hadn’t told me which year he died. He said eight years but maybe it was a year before or after that! So of course, I grabbed five years’ worth of books and went over to my usual seat.

It took a bit of flicking through, and by a bit, I meant nearly an hour, but I did eventually find a kid named Peter who looked like mine!

Still as adorable… sigh…

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, floating up through the table. I squeaked in surprise and narrowly avoided bruising my knees against the table.

After catching my breath (and glaring at Peter for good measure), I explained, “I’m starting with you and your old classmates and working back from there.”

“What? Working back? What do you mean?” he asked, floating over to get a proper look at the book.

“Your murder, you know, the thing keeping you from your happily ever after? I promised I would solve it, didn’t I?”

“Oh, uh, right. You’re making a suspects list?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing! It might take a bit of searching to find everyone, but I’ll do it!” I proclaimed.

“I don’t really think any of my classmates would have killed me. I had a couple bullies, but none of them would, y’know,  _kill me_ ,” he said.

“Well, even if it was all an accident it doesn’t hurt, right?” If I was him, I would push for someone to solve it as fast as possible. But that was the thing, I wasn’t, and he seemed to not want to… push me to do any of this. I didn’t like that he was a pushover over all this.

“Sure, I guess. Thanks for doing this for me,” he said.

“It’s no problem. You deserve to have answers, you know?”

“Yeah. No one before you really wanted to help solve what happened,” he huffed a laugh, “They usually wanted me for academic help.”

I stared at him for a long moment, long enough for him to shift uncomfortably. “You mean to tell me, I’m the first one who ever thought, ‘this cute ghost is probably stuck here’?”

His face went red, but he ignored it as he continued. “Yeah? I mean, it’s fine. School work is tough and if I had someone to coach me all the time at school, I would have used them too,” he said dismissively.

“No, you wouldn’t have. I haven’t known you all that long, but I know that you would have done exactly what I’m doing now,” I protested, folding my arms.

He looked me between the eyes for a few moments before his eyes dropped to his hands. “… Thanks.”

“That’s what I thought,” I affirmed, “So, who were these bullies?”

“What? They wouldn’t have killed me,” he said, frowning at me. I looked him up and down, he would not back down on this. Well... I guess I should take his word for it.

“Well, what’s the last thing you remember doing?” I asked, changing the topic. For now.

“I was going down into the basement. Why?” he asked.

I frowned, leaning back in my seat, “Maybe someone pushed you?”

“I…” he glanced away, pausing before looking me in the eyes again, “maybe,” he said, voice trailing off before he shrugged.

“And if they did, and you died, would they really fess up to that? Bullies are always cowards, I know that,” I said.

“What do you mean by ‘I know that’?” he asked, floating closer. “You have nothing to be bullied for.”

“Have you really not noticed my burn scars this whole time? Kids will go for that… and…” I shifted uncomfortably, “look, you’re changing the subject. Even if they pushed you as a joke, you should still get closure that that is what truly happened. I wouldn’t want to be haunting a school for the rest of eternity!” I said, folding my arms.

“Alright… fine,” he finally pointed to a few students in the yearbook. I couldn’t circle them - it was a library book after all, but I wrote them down into a new notebook I had bought this morning.

“Was that so hard?”

Peter looked like he was about to say something, but he sighed and finally whispered, “…No.”

“Trust me, I will find out what happened,” giving him my best reassuring smile.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

 

I filled the next few days with researching his death, which turned out to be the seventh of February, and phone calls to all Peter’s classmates. Everyone seemed to know he only had his Aunt May left, and that he was smart, and that running away seemed strange and unlikely.

Eventually, one person mentioned that the school had surveillance cameras and that that might help. Which was actually helpful.

Which is why I ended up sneaking into the back of the library after school while Mrs Vera was dead to the world. If they had stored the footage anywhere, it would be there.

“What are you doing? Why are you breaking into the back?” Peter asked, floating in front of me as if he could stop me.

“You’ll see,” I whispered, eyeing Mrs Vera and the desk, trying to find a key that would open the door.

“‘You’ll see?’ That doesn’t sound reassuring. Please don’t do something illegal,” he pleaded, trying to block my view and get my attention.

I stepped right through him, which made him squawk in protest. I finally found the keys in one of her drawers. I grabbed it tight, so it wouldn’t jingle, and went over to the door.

“That’s a lot of keys on that thing,” Peter said as I went through them.

“I know right? This’ll take ages,” I tested the third key. No luck. I resisted the urge to sigh.

He hummed, hand going up to his chin as he seemed to think. “Let me have a look at them,” he said, motioning for me to come closer.

“Sure,” I said, holding the keys flat on my palm so he could get a better look at them. His eyes flicked over them and a moment later he pointed at one.

“That one, that’ll get you in,” he said.

“What? How did you know?” I asked, frowning.

“It says ‘backroom’ on the side,” he pointed out, his smile turning smug.

Oh.

“Oh.” Ignoring his chuckle, I put it in the lock, and sure enough, it opened for me. I pocketed the keys for now.

We walked in together and I immediately realised that it was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. It was about a classroom and a half in size.

“Do your ghostly powers also help you figure out where stuff is?” I asked in dismay.

“No, but my normal observational skills tell me that you’ll find what you’re looking for _right_ there,” he sang, pointing at a shelf filled with DVDs.

I bit my lip. Right. Yep. I should look over there. I walked over and began to scan over all the discs, slowly going back all the years until I found the date I was looking for. Eventually, I found the month and year I was looking for, February eight years ago.

Now for the date… wait. “Pete, I’m not being dumb, am I? The seventh of February is gone, right?”

He floated over, fingers hovering over the discs. “Yeah… it’s gone.”

* * *

 

It made no sense! Obviously, someone had taken it, probably the killer themselves. One step forward. But we’re missing the clip and broke into the security office for nothing. Two steps back.

But not many people knew about the very existence of the cameras… another step forward.

Someone was guilty. I knew for sure that someone had been gunning for Peter and had covered it up.

But who? Everyone had given as much information as I wanted, even more in some cases. If they were guilty their story wouldn’t have lined up with everyone else’s.

Or at the very least, they probably would have hung up on me as soon as I asked.

So, who?

“Hey Peter, can you show me where your body is buried?” I asked, finally lifting my head up from my crossed arms. I had been slumped over the table, trying to figure out where I could go from here.

He floated in front of me, “I’m not completely certain where it is,” he admitted.

“But you have an idea of where I would find it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “I guess?”

“That’s enough for me. Lead the way,” I said, grabbing my stuff and hastily shoving it all into my bag.

He sighed but seemed to realise that I wasn’t going to let up on this. He deserved to be happy, he deserved to have closure. And if I had to push him into being happy, I would!

He floated along, leading me to one door that I had never used before. No one used it anymore, but I had heard some kids calling it haunted. Well, maybe it was if Peter was bringing me here? He is a ghost after all.

“It was shut down a few years ago because they thought there were rats in the wall,” Peter explained quietly, folding his arms and shifting nervously.

“Do you know how to get in?” I asked, maybe I wouldn’t have to do anything overly illegal...

He shook his head, “I can get in, because I’m a ghost and all, but I don’t know how you could get in.”

“Ah, right. Okay. Well, luckily I know how to pick locks!” I grinned as I put my bag down to find my bobby pin I always kept for moments like this.

“I feel like I should be more worried that you know how to do that,” Peter said, floating closer to watch what I was doing.

I shrugged, “It’s great for when you want to break into places, like abandoned shopping malls, haunted houses…wait, that’s offensive now, isn’t it?”

He sat back and huffed out a laugh, “No, it’s fine. Call places haunted. Honestly, I think most ghosts are pretty chill? Like, I have my conscious and everything. Spirits, however… wow, they are something.”

I frowned as I finally found the bobby pin. “Spirits? Aren’t you a spirit?”

“Technically, yes? What I’ve been able to work out is that there’s a difference between a spirit and a ghost. Like, a ghost like me can have opinions and interact with the real world and be seen. But spirits can’t, they are attached to an object or their body and they don’t really have… changing opinions?”

“Changing opinions? What?” I puzzled, stopping for a moment from picking the lock to stare back at Peter.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah? Like if a spirit is angry it has to be cleansed or something before it can stop giving people bad luck?”

“So, what you’re saying is that if I’m suddenly getting bad luck after buying a necklace I should give it away?” I asked.

He nodded, “Pretty much.”

“Huh, who knew?”

“I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen it first hand as a ghost,” Peter said with a sheepish smile.

“You weren’t much of a myth believer then, were you?” I said slowly, fitting another puzzle piece about him into place.

He grinned at that, “Nope! I was really into science. If someone told me that I would become a school-haunting ghost I would have called a mental institution on them.”

I laughed, “I could see that.”

As I went back to work on the lock, I couldn’t help but feel a bubble of joy well up inside of me. Bob was great and all but being able to hang out with Peter and learn about what the afterlife might be like was a special kind of joy.

I would… I would miss him when I finally had to say goodbye.

“Aha!” I proclaimed as the door opened with a click.

“Good job! Be careful on the stairs, they might be, uh, unsafe,” he warned.

“I’ll be fine. These muscles can hold on to the handrail!”

“Yeah, the wood there is probably rotten too,” he said, floating over to scrutinize them.

I paused, considering. “I’ll be fine. It’s not that long of a drop, anyway?”

“If it can kill me, it can kill you. Try not to die alright? I don’t want to spend eternity with you,” he said, floating down ahead of me.

“Hey! I heard that!” I called out after him, throwing my hands up in the air like I was actually offended. I heard Peter snicker, and I smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

The stairs creaked with every step I took, echoing down into the basement below. I hated to admit it, but Peter was right. The steps were rotten through and threatened to cave with my every step. If I fell, it would be a nasty tumble.

It was scary. It was even scarier to think that there might be a dead body down here. The loud noises the wood made with every step freaked me out.

I really was trying, but there was no way to be careful or quiet on these things...

As much as I had agreed to, you know, find out who murdered him, it hadn’t really crossed my mind that I would actually be confronted with a dead body.

But, even if I vomited or something it would be worth it. I had to solve this, and if this was what it took, I would do it.

The stairs felt endless. Every step threatened to cave under my weight and it was terrifying. Was this really where he died?

The room was intrusively dark, all light swallowed up like in a typical horror movie. The only light was coming from the door at the top of the stairs - and even that only let in a very limited amount of light. It was hard to see where I was going by the time I reached the bottom.

Reaching tile had never felt so relieving before. Normally you cursed it out for being cold as heck on bare feet as you got out of a warm shower...

“You okay there?” Peter asked, floating over to me hesitantly.

“Yeah, yeah, my heart rate hasn’t been this high since… well, last week.” I shuddered as I remembered the one singular push up I had done.

I dug around in my pockets for my phone, grabbing it out in a rush. The flashlight was on a few seconds later.

I had braced myself for a horror movie set, but in reality, it was just a dusty, mouldy place with the remains of tables and other things that a school wouldn’t be able to sell. It felt weird and out of place in this setting, like a cheeseburger on a toilet seat, but was familiar enough that I couldn’t help but relax a little.

“Any idea where I should start?” I asked.

“No, not really. The most I can tell you is that I definitely know my body is around here somewhere,” he whispered.

I frowned, turning the light towards him. The light went straight through him, hitting the opposite wall. It was like he was a projector with something in front of it, which looked really weird. “How do you know?”

“It’s… hard to describe? I just know,” he said with a sigh. His form was flickering every few seconds and he refused to look me in the eyes.

I didn’t know what to say to comfort him. How could you even comfort him? I turned the other way. “Alright, if you say so. Let’s start searching.”

I crept around the basement, phone held so tight I was afraid it would crack. Luckily, or unluckily depending on how you looked at it, I mostly found some weird looking spiders, dead  _ and _ alive. And a rat or two. You can never avoid them…

“Anything?” I asked, turning from where I was bent over to look for Peter. I found a gleam that faintly looked like his outline, and he was totally still. Not moving at all.

I had never seen him that still before, he was always fiddling or swinging his legs or arms or  _ anything _ . A shiver raced down my spine.

“Peter?” I asked quietly, cautiously approaching him. He didn’t respond.

I followed his gaze to the floor. I noticed that the wood seemed a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the wood – like it was fresher, not from the same batch. I gulped.

“Is this where it is?” I asked softly. Finally, he moved, nodding his head.

I crouched down, feeling around the wood. It was about the size of a human if they were curled in a ball. I felt sick.

Swallowing down my hesitation, I grabbed the side of one of the new bits of wood and pulled as hard as I could, trying to get it to snap. It creaked, and creaked, and creaked, and finally broke with enough momentum to send me on to my butt.

I scrambled to grab my phone and look into the hole.

I was overwhelmed with emotions, all fighting for dominance. One second I was frozen, fists curled by my side so tight it was painful. The next I was shaking, eyes watery and blurred. I took a deep breath, containing myself. It didn’t work, rage still clawed at my throat with like an animal, words like acid ready to spit at the nearest person.

“They stuffed you in there…” I hissed, letting my anger rise above all my other emotions. “They couldn’t even respect you enough to lay you down! They stuffed you in there! How dare they!”

I turned to look at Peter, fire in my eyes, but it simmered down as I saw his face. He was hunched over, rubbing his arms slowly–as if he were cold. His eyes were blank. His form kept on flickering.

My anger drained out of me. This wasn’t about me.“Peter, please say something…” I whispered, standing back up.

He only hunched in on himself even more. I could only see his face through his hair.

“You didn’t deserve this. Whatever you’re thinking, this is not what you deserved. You deserve better than to be shoved in a hole, left to rot and be eaten by the  _ rats _ in here. You deserved to live a long life and I seethe at the thought that whoever did this to you got to live  _ theirs _ .”

He nodded hesitantly. I wanted to yell at him, shake sense into him, understand what was going through that mind of his. But I couldn’t. The best I could do was reassure him, comfort him, and make sure whichever fucker did this would be put away for life  _ at the least _ .

Feeling more determined than ever, I grabbed the next floorboard and ripped it away, fully revealing Peter’s skeleton to the light. I realised that Peter was wearing the same clothes as his remains.

I couldn’t help but be immensely grateful that he was still wearing the remains of those clothes. It meant I didn’t have to see any decaying remains—if there were any bits of rotting flesh remaining.

With the body exposed, I could finally collect evidence. I took a few pictures, but other than that I refused to touch him. It didn’t feel right, especially with Peter hovering just over my shoulder. There wasn’t anything else surrounding him.

After that, I grabbed one desk and covered the hole up. I didn’t want whoever came down here next to discover the horrifying site.

Not unless they were investigating Peter’s death like I was.

* * *

After that, I had trouble finding a new angle on this. None of the students were really suspects in my mind–even the former bullies had been very remorseful about his “disappearance.” And it wasn’t likely that any people outside of the school would have killed him.

I would have thought it was an accident or someone had accidentally killed him, but it stuck Peter in the mortal realm. And if horror movies had taught me anything, it was that he probably had unfinished business. Also, he had been hastily stuffed into the floor and covered up, any arguments that it was “an accident” kind of fell away at that point.

So, who does that leave?

The janitors, the principal (but that wouldn’t make sense, Peter had been great for the school) or the teachers…

The… teachers? Hang on.

I looked up from my notebook. Peter was sitting on top of the desk, head in his hands. He had been silent since we had found his body.

We were hanging out at the library as per usual. Wait a minute. We were in the library, it would be a simple matter of grabbing the latest yearbook and the one from when Peter died to compare the teachers.

There were only three teachers who had been around when Peter was killed. Mr Grant, Mrs Ives and Mr Campbell.

Mr Campbell taught English, and I had met him before. He did not give me a gut feeling of ‘this guy is dangerous to me and everyone around him’ though. I would still investigate him but I doubted it could be him. Even if he was weird. Who had a collection of cheese? This guy. That’s what kind of guy he was.

Mrs Ives was a music teacher. She taught on the other side of the school from where Peter was killed, and the basement wasn’t exactly something you had to pass to get home. And from what I could gather, it most likely happened at the start or end of the day when there would be no… witnesses. She was quiet for a music teacher though...

Mr Grant wasn’t all that bad either. He taught science, and though he had had some historic outbursts, he was an alright guy all around. I couldn’t pinpoint any reason for him to kill Peter either.

Man, this lead wasn’t going anywhere neither. But I wouldn’t give up. I decided to go through all of their office‘s. Maybe I‘ll find the surveillance footage in one of their desks.

That would probably help the cops to convict someone. Maybe. If I wanted the police to take this seriously, I would need a large amount of credible evidence. And an explanation for why I looked into Peter’s case again.

With that idea firmly planted in my head, I went over to Mrs Veras‘ desk and stole her keys for the second time. Luckily all the teachers‘ offices had the same lock. Which was dumb. But who was I to judge?

That was enough to get Peter talking again. “What are you doing with those?”

“I’m investigating your murder, of course,” I replied, walking out of the library. I left my stuff for the moment, there was no point in taking it with me if I would be coming back soon, anyway.

Peter floated in front of me, so he was looking at me as I determinedly walked to my first suspect. “I know that! But where are you going to break into this time?”

“Mrs Ives office,” I told him.

“Mrs Ives? That old lady? She would never hurt a fly! Let alone me. And if she  _ did _ kill me I doubt she would have…” he drifted off, his face falling.

“Don’t think about that! Look, Mrs Ives is one of the few teachers left who was around when you died. None of the other students did it, and no one outside of the school could have done it. Doesn’t it make sense?” I explained.

He huffed, “Yeah, I guess. Are there any other teachers who are still around?”

I nodded, “Yep. Mr Campbell and Mr Grant.”

As I said ‘Mr Grant’ a chill seemed to go up Peter’s spine, and we both paused. His form wavering for a couple of seconds before coming back like nothing had happened. He blinked a few times, confusion written all over his face.

“You saw that, right?” he asked, eyes wide.

“You don’t think…?” I said slowly, crossing my arms.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No, it wasn’t anything. You can look into all of them. I don’t care.”

I frowned, “I was going to look into all of them, anyway. The order doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Turning around, I walked back the way I came from. Peter fell behind me, seemingly trying to make sense of our new suspect being the killer. I heard him muttering a few ‘no way’s…’ to himself. There wasn’t much I could say.

I mean, if I had discovered a former teacher of mine might be the one who killed me, I would be in shock too. I would be angry and haunt them until they ran away or something, too, but I knew Peter would never do that.

He had too kind of a soul. Helping random students at a school he was stuck in instead of wallowing in despair. His whole life was gone! He had no future to look forward to! The best he could hope for was someone to solve his murder–but it was obvious he had given up by the time I came along.

He had been prepared to spend the rest of eternity haunting an admittedly small place. He hadn’t wanted me to go after his murderer at first. He didn’t want to bother someone, I guess?

I couldn’t help but wonder if that had to do with some previous students. Had he asked someone else to figure out what had happened and been rejected? Had they ignored him when he persisted? Had they said they wouldn’t talk to Peter unless he helped them with their work?

I tightened my hand around the keys. If someone had done that to Peter, then I would make it up to him.

I didn’t care if my grades fell while helping Peter, didn’t care if it caused me to get into trouble, I would rather have him be happy in the afterlife without me than to be stuck here until the end of time.

It was just a shame that it took nearly a decade for someone to make this choice. It infuriated me that people could be selfish enough to ignore something that could be solved. A part of me knew for certain that if too much time passed, Peter would have no chance of moving on.

Zilch, none, nada. There would be no way to. Any and all evidence would disappear over time until there was nothing left to discover. I was just glad that it wasn’t too late for him.

“Wade? Wade! You passed his office,” Peter said, circling around in front of me.

I looked back, and then to him, “Um, right. I knew that.”

He smiled. It was something small, still not as bright as before, but it was enough for my spirits to lift. “Sure you did. Go on, investigate him and potentially get in huge trouble. Just remember–you can’t blame ghosts because you’ll be seen as insane~”

I swatted at him, “Shut up, you. Everyone already knows I’m insane!”

“Not surprised,” he laughed, drifting backwards until he went straight through the wall.

“You trying to suggest something Petey-pie?” I called out as I looked through the keys until I found the right one.

When I stepped in, I flicked the light on and found a conventional, boring office space. After the… excitement in the basement it was almost a letdown. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Peter.

“Where are you going to start, Mr Detective?” Peter asked, trying to hide his flushed face as he floating over to one shelf. He sat on it–even though we both knew he could go right through it.

I hid my smirk with a smile, instead looking around the room. So many files, so many things to look through. If I was a murderer trying to hide evidence where would I put it?

My eyes strayed to the desk drawers. The rest of the room looked fairly organised, but if I knew anything, random stuff always seemed to get stuck in those things.

Trusting my gut feeling, I went to open the bottom drawer and fished around in there. I pulled everything out, looked at it, and then put everything back in. Nothing. I repeated that with the next drawer. Same result. Next one, same result.

I knew I should be more patient about these things–I was basically looking for a needle in a haystack, but I slammed a fist into the side of the drawers in frustration. Peter jumped.

“You okay?” he asked, frowning down at me.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just a kid looking for a DVD when I don’t know if it’s still around. Maybe he burned it!” I told him, flinging my arms out.

“If he did, then that’s okay. You know you can call the police and explain what you’ve discovered already, right?” he whispered, floating down to sit in front of me.

I brought my knees up to my chest, folding my arms on top of them and putting my head on them.

“How do I explain how I found your body? How do I explain what I know? How do I explain my motivations? The police probably won’t even care. You died so many years ago,” I mumbled, eyes staring at my feet rather than his face. I didn’t want to see his disappointment in me.

He put a hand on my knee, going corporeal for a few seconds. “I know it’s frustrating, but you know you don’t have to solve my case. I’m fine with you and I being friends and hanging out until you leave school.”

“You shouldn’t be! You shouldn’t be okay with that. Be selfish for once!” I exclaimed, my hands tightening into a fist. “Who knows if there’ll ever be another me wanting to help you? And who knows if they’ll even be able to solve it!”

Peter stared me in the eyes for a long moment, searching me. I stood there, breathing heavily and on the verge of tears. I would stand by my words, Peter deserved none of what had happened to him.

Peter broke eye contact first. “You’re stressed out about this. C’mon, I’ll help you look as much as I can,” he whispered, voice croaking. He got up and floated up to look at the higher shelves before I could protest.

I sighed and went to the next drawer.

It was another five minutes of searching, tense silence between us, before Peter exclaimed, “I think I’ve found something!”

When I looked over, Peter had mustered some of his energy to pick up a DVD and float it down to where I could grab it.

I flicked it over, there were no markings on it. “You sure?”

“It’s the only thing I’ve been able to find. And think about it–if Mr Grant was trying to cover up what he did he wouldn’t put any suspicious markings on it.” Peter explained, folding his arms.

I grinned, “Alright, let’s watch this thing.”

* * *

I had to book a computer at the library, so it took until the next night to look it through. The whole day I had been anxiously waiting to do it, restlessness growing with every minute that passed.

Even Bob had commented on it, and he was normally oblivious. I didn’t know how to explain it to him without seeming slightly insane, so I didn’t.

When the bell for the end of the day _ finally _ rang I raced to the library—leading to a few odd stares—and grabbed the nearest computer after signing in.

I grabbed the DVD out of my bag (I had even wrapped it in bubble wrap for good measure) and waited for the computer to upload.

This was it, the moment of truth. Would we finally have the evidence I needed?

Peter came floating through the floor, and for once I didn’t jump.

“Hey Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, how you doin’?” I greeted.

He shrugged, looking over my shoulder. “I’m much more interested in this, how long do these things take to boot up, anyway?”

“Way too long, way too long. The school is poor and can’t afford new ones. It sucks,” I whined.

Peter smirked, “Back in my day~!”

“Don’t you start on me! After all the nice things I’ve done for you, this is the way you thank me? Betrayal! Betrayal I say!”

“Yeah, yeah, whine and complain. The computer’s done,” he said, pointing at the screen.

I leaned forward in my chair, putting the disc in and clicking around until finally I had the DVD’s files up. It had the surveillance of every school hall sorted in different folders. When I clicked into the basement one I found myself staring at a boring long, twenty-four-hour video.

I groaned.

“Just skip to later that day. I died in the afternoon. I’m pretty sure,” Peter said.

I nodded, “That helps a lot. I don’t think three hours is enough to go through all of this.”

* * *

Even by speeding up the video and clicking through it, it still took forever to find Peter walking through the corridor.

“Found you!” I said, grabbing my notebook and pen from my bag as quickly as I could. I had it out just in time to pause the video as he entered the basement.

Peter went quiet, but for now, I decided not to bother him.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, Mr Grant came into frame. He looked younger, but he still had that scowl that I had never seen him without.

“Wow, he really hasn’t changed at all,” I commented as I marked down the time he went in.

Peter huffed a small laugh, “You’ve got that right. I honestly think he’s a vampire or something.”

“Why would he even kill you?” I asked murmured, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to come up with some reason why he would do it.

“No idea,” He paused then looked down at the ground. I could tell something was eating at him but before I could press about it, he continued. “I was openly bisexual. Maybe that?” He admitted with a sad laugh.

“Seriously?” He nodded, watching me almost cautiously, “Screw him. I knew I hated him for a reason!” I exclaimed.

Before we could keep on talking Grant was walking out of the basement. I paused and peered at him. I could see a darker patch—presumably of blood—on his pants. Otherwise, no one would have suspected he had just killed a teenager.

A shiver went up my spine.

“And then I never came back up again…” Peter whispered, his voice low. When I looked over at him his body looked fainter. He wasn’t flickering or anything though.

I swallowed any reaction. I didn’t want to make an already bad situation worse. I had to be strong for the both of us.

I smiled as hard as I could. “I think we have enough evidence now. You ready?” I asked, turning to look at him.

He smiled, some light re-entering his eyes. It made me feel worse. “Can’t wait to hear how it goes. Good luck.”

I carefully repackaged the DVD, giving it an extra layer of protection with some bubble wrap hanging around. This was the biggest bit of evidence I had and if it broke…

Didn’t want to even think of that.

I stood up and put my bag on.

...

I couldn’t move towards the door.

“Wade? Are you okay?” Peter asked, floating back in front of me.

I kept my smile firmly in place. “I’m fine. Just you wait, he’ll be arrested before you know it.”

He sighed, a frown growing on his face. “Be careful.” He lifted his arm, and it went corporal. He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze.

I nodded, “I will, don’t worry.” I moved past him and his arm dropped back to his side. I turned back and gave him a quick wave. “See you later.”

“Bye,” he replied, a soft smile on his face.

* * *

I hurried through the school hallways. Someone had dimmed the lights and outside I knew it was already dark. Shadows crept along the hallways, dancing in the corner of my eyes like a bad horror movie.

I gripped the straps of my bag tightly, trying to ground myself and keep my breathing low. Every step I took echoed endlessly along the corridor.

I was almost at the door when I stopped. Something was wrong. Against my better instincts, I stopped and looked over.

Mr Grant.

A chill went down my spine, freezing me in place with my hand on the door.

He was a large man, tall and imposing when he wanted to be. Each of his hands were almost as big as my head. If he gripped my head, he could probably squish it like a grape. His body was twice as big as mine though he was a very… round man.

I swallowed, unconsciously curling my hands into a fist by my side.

“Hello there, Wade Wilson, was it?” He asked politely, his voice a low rumble. He grinned, all his teeth showing in one smile. It wasn’t exactly… welcoming. He put a hand out for me to shake.

I couldn’t help but see the blood on his pants, the satisfied smirk on his face as he had walked away from the scene of the crime all those years ago.

I raised my hand up to take his, forcing my face into something resembling normal. “Uh, yeah. I was just on my way out and-”

He gripped my hand so tight when he shook it that I winced. “I’m sure you were.” He studied me for a long few uncomfortable seconds. “I’ve heard many things about you. Reckless, immature, struggling, among others.”

I grit my teeth, “High praise.”

He tilted his head to the side, like a dog. The analogy didn’t quite work unless you thought of him as a shaved bulldog that swallowed a balloon. “You always seem to be in the know around here.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m in the know, I mean, I do hear gossip from time to time-” I said, spitting out the words as fast as possible. If he would just let me go-

“Someone broke into my office,” Mr Grant whispered. But it could have well of been a bomb because I froze all over again.

“That’s not good sir, now if you’ll just let me-” I tried, pressing the door hard enough to get it to budge.

He tugged me closer, forcing me to let the door slip shut again. “Can you tell me who did it?” He asked, only his eyes portraying his anger. I desperately hoped it was just because of someone breaking in.

He couldn’t know, he didn’t know, there was no way he knew it was me...

“N-no, I don’t know anything. Can I please go home now?” I said again, grabbing my arm and taking a small step back.

His eyes narrowed in on me, studying me. My skin crawled. Then he smiled, like a predator playing with his prey. I smiled back.

“I hope you have a  _ very _ good night’s sleep,” he said, voice light and airy as if our whole conversation hadn’t happened.

As soon as he let go of my arm, I was out of there. I had never biked somewhere so fast in my life.

* * *

When I had said goodbye to Peter that night, I had maybe failed to mention that I couldn’t actually go to the police tonight. They were way too far away for me to feasibly think about doing it. Unless I wanted to get there by midnight.

So, I waited until the next day. It was a Wednesday, but I couldn’t care, I would skip school for this. Which meant a lesser chance of Mr Grant going after me if he found out what I was doing. They could fire him for skipping—at least I was pretty sure.

I wasn’t taking the chance in any case. Not after last night.

Super early, at six in the morning, I grabbed all my evidence and pedalled toward the closest police station. It was about thirty miles away and I knew I was in for a long ride, and I had to shortcut through a forest to cut time.

I took until midday to reach the closest police station.

I would have been there sooner if it hadn’t been for the really hilly area where I had to get off my bike and walk up.

I mostly passed suburbs, at one point riding a never-ending road before taking a turn into the forested area using the shortcut taking me to the nearest town.

I stopped half-way through the track, putting my bike on the edge of the path and leaning against a tree. I fished out my water bottle but decided to forgo any snacks.

My eyes flicked to my bag. I still couldn’t believe Mr Grant had been the one to murder Peter. Well… kind of.

I didn’t even want to go digging further into why he would have pushed Peter. If this guy thought it was okay to murder kids, he must be really messed up. What if he had done the same things to other kids just like him?

But really, I doubted Mr Grant was interesting beyond the fact that he was tall, mean and menacing. In fact, I would bet that he’s boring as hell. The only thing that could be considered “fascinating” is that he killed a teenager.

Which, to me, wasn’t interesting. It was disturbing.

I pinched the brow of my nose, trying to quell the twisting of my stomach. Just the thought that someone had gone out of their way to murder him then cover it up made me feel sick. Disgusted, really.

And if what Peter had said was right? That he might have killed Peter because he was bi?

Well, if that really was true, if he really hated gay people that bad...  _ Mr Grant would kill me too. _

I shook away the thought.

I was a smart kid, if he really tried to go after me I could just avoid him. Right?

I… I could just...

I could run away!

That…

That wouldn’t work.

It never works. I couldn’t get away, not while I still lived with  _ them _ .  _ They _ wouldn’t care if I died. Oh god, what if Mr Grant had realised I knew? What if he was waiting on the other side of this forest waiting for me?

The forest grew too quiet for me, every  _ creak _ , every  _ bird _ ,  _ everything _ was a warning. I wrapped my arms around myself and pulled my hood up.

What if he was after me? Could I get away? Where would that leave Peter? Would he discard my body like Peter’s? Would I get a funeral? Would anyone even try to search for me? Would they assume I drowned in a lake in the forest?

If he knew _ I _ knew what he had done, which maybe he did, no one would ever know what happened to  _ Peter _ . No one would know what happened to  _ me _ . I hadn’t told Bob or Mrs Vera or  _ anyone _ what I was doing.

I wasn’t popular, everyone only knew me as  _ that burn victim _ .

I didn’t know how long I sat there, trying not to be sick, trying to ground myself by digging my fingernails into my bald scalp, leaving crescent marks. It took even longer to stagger to my feet.

This… this is why he needs to be put away.

Who knows if he’ll ever do it again. If he already  _ has _ done it again.

_ He would kill me if I failed. _

I had to make sure he didn’t have the chance to try again.

Forcing my thoughts into submission and controlling my breathing until it was slow and steady took too long. It left me feeling light-headed.

I grabbed my backpack and hopped back onto my bike.

I am doing this for Peter. For anyone like me. So that  _ no one _ has to suffer this fate again.

If my heart was pounding out of my chest, then that wasn’t anyone’s business but my own.

* * *

I leaned my bike against the wall of the police station.

I was really doing this. I was actually here, at the police station, about to show them everything. Get Mr Grant jailed. Let Peter have his happy ending.

I was really doing this. I had done this.

...It felt surreal in all the wrong ways.

I walked forward with stronger strides than I felt. Really, my legs felt like jelly. Like at any moment I would trip and fall flat on my face.

Even my breaths sounded too loud.

I glanced back toward the road. There wasn’t anyone there. It was just me and my bike. No one else.

I hurried inside anyway.

It was silent in here, the only noise being the hum of the heater. There were no police officers waiting around. Actually, there wasn’t anyone but me and the secretary.

Why had I expected that? It was just a police station.

I walked over to the desk and leant on it like it could support me if I fell. The man at the front desk looked up and smiled.

“Hello, how can I help you?” he asked politely.

I took a deep breath. Moment of truth. I could do this. This was for Peter, for me, for Aunt May (if she was still alive… I hadn’t looked into her. Maybe I should have done that) and the school.

“I know what happened to Peter Parker.”


	3. Chapter 3

_New Suspect in Eight Year Long Cold Case!_

* * *

 

It had felt like the longest day of my life. Two police officers had questioned me for two hours or something, probably longer, definitely longer. Then they brought me in the next day for more questioning. I missed school two days in a row because of this. They at least had the decency to drive me home.

The trial was set for a couple of weeks away. They had arrested Mr Grant, and a substitute put in his place. Things were getting better.

Even if my grades were suffering.

I walked into the school library, knowing full well that school was already over, and my absence might have been noticed. I couldn’t care. I wanted to see Peter.

I sat down in my usual spot, heaving some of my textbooks out of my bag along with my pens. I opened my maths book and did my homework.

“Wade? Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in two days,” Peter asked, voice thick with concern as he floated through the desk.

I waved a hand, “I’m ok! I just went to the police, and they questioned me for a bit. It’s all good!”

He untensed, the frown that was permanently on his face softening. “Good, I was worried something bad had happened to you. You will not _believe_ some rumours I’ve heard today.”

I leaned forward, “Which was the best?”

“Probably that you ran away to go live with your secret boyfriend,” he answered, folding his legs under him. Even though he was floating and we both knew he wasn’t actually touching anything, he was still pretending he could and was sitting on it.

I let out a full body laugh, my stomach aching from the force of it. “Me?” I chuckled, wiping a tear away, “having a boyfriend? With this face?”

He frowned at me, “Your face is fine. You‘re just bald and a bit scarred. It adds… flavour!” He immediately cringed.

“Flavour? Ah yes, me, chicken flavouring of the highest quality. Fake but _oh so_ delicious,” I joked.

“You know what I mean! It makes you look pretty, ok?” His face immediately went scarlet red as I laughed even harder.

Clutching my stomach I managed to catch my breath. Peter folded his arms and turned his embarrassment into annoyance.

“I’ll have you know that you are handsome. Have you seen your muscles? Work them!” he demanded.

“Me? Muscles? You’re dreaming! The only exercise I do is biking.”

“Fine! Your thigh muscles are great, and you have really broad shoulders and it’s attractive. I didn’t exercise at all when I was alive! I looked like a twig,” he grumbled.

I looked him up and down, smirking, “I can see that.”

He used some energy to throw a book at me, causing me to laugh. There was no way I was going to get any work done today.

And I was totally okay with that.

* * *

 

(971) 723-4940: _Hello! I’m Peter Parker’s Aunt. I’ve heard how you believe you’ve solved his case. I would like to talk to you if you’re available? I heard there’s a nice coffee shop, would you like to meet me there?_

(971) 723-4940: _:link attached:_

Me _: I think that’s too far for me to bike_

Me: _when were you thinking?_

Me: _also, hi! Nice to meet you!_

Peter’s Aunt: _I was hoping to meet as soon as possible, in the next couple of days if possible. Would it be ok if I pick you up from school to take you there? I can talk to your parents if you need permission._

Me: _they won’t care. I’d be happy to meet you after school if that’s what you want to do_

Peter’s Aunt: _Yes, please. East Bridge High School?_

Me: _Yep! See you at 3:30_

* * *

 

Peter and I hung around the office stiffly. We were waiting for his Aunt. I didn’t really know why she wanted to meet me, but it was fine. It might be cool to meet her. I just hoped she was fine.

When I had told Peter he had been adamant about coming. Would not take no for an answer, if I had tried. Which I hadn’t.

He deserved this.

The office had been the best place to meet her. Peter was at the edge of his ‘playable’ area here but we could still see the road.

“You think she’ll be able to see you?” I asked quietly, glad that no one but us were around.

Peter turned to look at me, a frown on his face. “No? I… I guess I haven’t thought about that.” His eyes went wider and he rubbed at his face. “Oh no, what if she can?!”

“Woah, it’s okay,” I said quickly, taking a step in front of him. “Would it really be that bad if she could?”

Peter focused back on me. I barely kept back my sigh of relief. “No… I would like to get to properly say goodbye…”

“Then think of it like that. You’ll get to see her anyway, but if she can see you then… well, maybe you’ll even be able to hug her. Wait! Have you ever tried being here around someone who can’t see you?”

Peter frowned again. “I… whenever I did I made sure no one was paying attention…”

“So maybe try that when we see her, I mean- if she can’t see you.”

We were interrupted as a car pulled into the office parking lot. An old lady stepped out of the small blue ford. I glanced over at Peter. His eyes were wide and red. Yep, definitely her.

I quickly jogged up to meet her.

“Hi! Peter’s Aunt, right?” I said with a smile.

She smiled right back, “Wade Wilson? Thank for agreeing to see me, I really appreciate it. And just call me May, dear.”

Before I could say anything, we were interrupted by Peter crying out, “Aunt May?!”

May froze, eyes looking over to where Peter was. She could… She could see him! I froze, my eyes flicking between the two. What do I do, what do I do?!

“You can see him too?” I asked quietly, slowly reaching forward and loosely gripping her arm.

She wiped at her face, her voice sniffly, “I’m not seeing things? Why is he here? I thought they had discovered his-...”

“Yeah, they did. That’s him, but he’s a ghost. Only some people can see him for some reason…” I explained. I stepped in Peter’s direction. “He really wants to see you.”

She nodded, squaring herself up and then walked with me towards him.

When I dared to look at Peter’s face… disbelief? Joy? Nervousness? He looked almost scared. He seemed to be frozen in place, like he was seeing a ghost. Tears were streaming down his face.

The moment Aunt May reached him I saw him struggle to make himself corporal when they hugged. Even from my position, a few feet away, I could hear both of them quietly sobbing. Peter was whispering ‘I’m sorry’ like a chant, May shook her head over and over.

I turned away, patiently waiting. Peter deserved this, so did May. I didn’t interrupt them - this wasn’t about me. It was always about Peter and May, even if I hadn’t realised it.

I hated the curling tendril of jealousy wrapping itself around me. He had a good family, he deserved this. I shouldn’t want to be the one hugging either of them.

I folded my arms and looked down at my feet. How dare I even want it.

“I’m sorry Aunt May, I can’t keep this form much longer…” Peter whispered, sweat beading down his face as he somehow managed to keep himself visible as he talked.

She stepped back, arms going back down to her side as he went ghost again. She grabbed a hanky out from a pocket and wiped at her face. She had a huge smile on her face.

“I never thought I would get a chance to say how much I love you, this is better than anything I could wish for. I don’t care if you’re a ghost.” She said firmly but reassuringly.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. “I love you _so_ much. I’m sorry I left you behind.”

“Stop that talk right this instant young man. If what I’ve heard is right, you were murdered by that awful teacher. No one can blame you.”

“But I left you behind! Uncle Ben died and then me? It’s not fair on you!” He hissed, his voice becoming thick with mucus.

“Life isn’t fair, Peter. This old girl survived.” She said, her smile taking a strain. “You being here, able to tell _me_ that life isn’t fair, is a blessing. I love you so much, Peter.”

He smiled, “I love you too. I’m glad you can see me…”

She nodded, took a deep breath then turned to me. “Sorry you had to see that Wade. I can’t thank you enough for reuniting us.”

I shrugged, the guilt for my feelings rising ever higher. I struggled to smile. “It’s ok. You guys deserve this.”

She frowned at me, pausing a moment before coming up and standing in front of me. Before I could ask what she was doing she had wrapped her arms around me.

“You are so brave. I can’t thank you enough.” She stepped back but kept her hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. I struggled to keep eye contact. “Not everyone would have done this. I wish there was a way I could repay you.”

I laughed, it coming out more strained and snottier than I wanted. “It’s okay, really. I wish I could have done more.”

She frowned, but whatever was making her hesitate went away. She let go and turned to face Peter. “I noticed you wouldn’t come any closer?”

He sighed, “Yeah, it’s like there’s an,” he waved his arms around, trying to explain it but failing, “invisible barrier or something. I would go with you to the coffee shop, but I can’t…”

She smiled at the two of us, “That’s ok, I’m sure we can work with that. You can go to the field, can’t you?”

He frowned and nodded slowly, confusion written all over his face. I already knew where she was going to go with this, so I picked up my bag from where I had left it. My bike wasn’t all that far away, I would be fine to ride back home.

“I’m retired, I don’t have much to do anyway. Why don’t we relax on the field and talk? I would like to know what you’ve been up to all these years.” I took a step towards my bike but immediately froze as May continued. “You too, Wade. We might not be going to a coffee shop anymore, but I would still like to get to know you.”

Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I nodded and looked down at my feet.

She smiled kindly at me, “It’s up to you of course.”

“I’d… like that. Thank you.” I murmured.

* * *

 

_Wilson Fisk Sentenced To Life in Prison_

_Wilson Grant Fisk, a teacher at East Bridge_ _High School, was today sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Peter Benjamin Parker. This came as new evidence emerged with the help of Wade Winston Wilson - a current student at the school._

_Eight years ago it was believed that Peter Parker had run away, his case going cold with no suspects. A few weeks ago Wade Wilson came forward with the location of his remains and surveillance tapes that had been lost revealing the last known footage of him alive._

_“We are devastated that we had a murderer in our community for so long,” Principal Johnson said when questioned, “Peter had been a prized member of our school and we’re grateful we finally have closure.”_

_Wade Wilson and Wilson Fisk’s lawyers both refused to comment._

* * *

 

I drummed my fingers against my thigh, itching to get my restless energy out but I knew if I got on my bike to try and get back to school I might be…

I didn’t want to think that I might be too late, but I knew that everything relied on me getting there as quickly as possible.

“Are we there yet?” I asked the police officer. My parents had claimed they couldn’t drive me, because of course they had. But I was an important enough witness that they had policemen take me to and from the courtroom.

I wasn’t complaining, in any case.

“Not long now. Why do you even want to go to your school kid?” He asked me. I hadn’t caught his name when I had gotten in and at this point it seemed too late to ask.

“I forget some homework in my locker,” I lied, struggling to keep my anxiousness from bleeding into my voice.

He nodded, either not caring enough to notice my lie or genuinely not caring at all. In any case, he kept his eyes firmly locked on the road. I drummed my fingers quicker, resisting the urge to jiggle my leg.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he pulled up into the parking lot. I thanked him as I shot out of the door, slamming it shut behind me.

Peter’s area of free movement had been shrinking with each passing day. First, it had been just a few feet. Then some more. On one notable day, it had shrunken by a whole yard. I had the feeling I might have to go into the basement to say goodbye.

If he wasn’t already gone.

But that wasn’t the only thing. He kept becoming harder to see; fading away. It was like with every new discovery he got weaker, every day spent on the trial - getting closer to prosecuting Mr Grant - made him lose energy.

Naturally, I knew it was inevitable. I knew this would happen from the start. But the thought of never seeing him again made me…

I was...

I was happy for him, that he finally got to pass on.

I was happy… for him.

I skidded around corridors, nearly knocking a janitor over in the process who yelled at me to stop running in the halls. I completely ignored him as I finally reached the basement door.

Still no Peter.

I fumbled for my bobby pin. It took just too long to break into the basement even though I knew it was the fastest I had ever broken into somewhere before.

I didn’t even care about the rotting floors this time. I thundered down, hearing wood cracking behind me. “Peter?!”

If I hadn’t been hoping so desperately to hear something, I wouldn’t have heard him. It was no louder than a mouse. “I’m here!

I went around the corner to find him close to being over where his remains had been. He was so faint that I could only see an outline of him.

I skidded to a stop in front of him.

I thought I had figured out what to say to him, how to say goodbye, how to thank him for keeping me company even though I was so annoying, how I was glad I had had the chance to know him, for him being my friend…

But just looking at him like _this_...

Too still, barely there, hands shaking, face a mess, struggling to lift a hand up to beacon me over...

I burst into tears.

Peter floated over, his movements weak and slow. Through my blurry eyes, I watched him make himself physically there before he wrapped his arms around me.

He was ice cold. I felt impossibly warm in comparison. His skin felt clammy and dusty, like if I hugged him too tight he would explode into small pieces.

“Thank you,” he murmured into my ear, resting his chin on my shoulder and sagging as if he was being rapidly drained of energy. I could barely hear him over my sobs. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

That wasn’t true! He should have had someone else before me, anyone else before me. I was just one in a million.

“You’ve done so much for me. I can’t believe you actually did it.” Peter whispered, his voice breathless like he had run a marathon.

“He’s behind bars. A life sentence without parole. He will never hurt anyone again.” I said. For my benefit or his… I didn’t know. It was just a fact now.

“You are an actual madman,” both of us giggled, hysterically, “I’ve watched that man for eight years and he’s like if Darth Vader got fat and a serious attitude.”

I hugged him tighter, clenching the fabric of his hoodie in my hand. “You nerd. I should have known you watched Star Wars.”

“You got me, I’ve watched it hundreds of times. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

I hummed lightly. The silence stretched out between us. I could feel him falling apart bit by bit, blinking in and out, struggling to stay here. I tried not to think about it too hard.

“I’m sorry I’m leaving,” Peter whispered into my ear. I felt the small weight of him disappear for a few long seconds before he came back. “I don’t want to go… You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I can’t even stay with you.” He sniffled, voice clenching up and I could feel his face scrunching up as he leaned his head on my shoulder. “You deserve so much better. I’m so sorry!” The grip he had on my clothes tightened, the start of sobs bubbling up in his throat.

“It’s okay,” I managed to get out, throat so tight I’m sure my voice was just a rambling mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You deserve to move on. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more. I don’t deserve you.”

Peter leaned back, forcing me to look him in the eye. My vision cleared enough to see his face when several tears finally spilled over, staining a trail.

Peter wiped away my tears. His skin left a trail of clammy skin, like it was made of flour. “You deserve everything life can offer.” He huffed a wet laugh. “For all your talk, telling me to be _selfish_ for once, you’re the one who needs to learn it the most.”

His form wavered, blinking rapidly. I looked at him in alarm, but he just seemed resigned, giving me a small smile. “Thank you, Wade.”

“Don’t start, don’t tell me goodbye you asshole-”

Peter interrupted me, a stern look keeping me quiet. It was kind of diminished by how red his face was, how watery his eyes were. “Look after Aunt May for me, will you? You guys deserve each other.”

I wrapped him up in a hug, a vain attempt to get him to stay longer. I felt him dusting away like ash.

“I love you, Wade,”

And then I was hugging air.

On the tip of my tongue was a goodbye.

* * *

 

The bright day, sunny with not a cloud in sight, didn’t match the swirling emotions in me.

It should be raining as in every movie funeral in existence… but it wasn’t. That felt unfair for a reason I didn’t even know. Maybe it was because I felt the world was moving on from his death too fast, another story for the newspaper. It should have been sadder.

But life had moved on. Peter had been dead eight years already. My time with him was nothing.

The suit I was wearing felt too stifling and unnatural to me. Too… expensive. Even though it came from a rental shop. I wasn’t used to the way it wrapped around me and made me look like I was… him. I hated it.

More people than I thought possible had turned up for his funeral. The school had turned up, everyone wanting to know more about the kid murdered at some random school in the middle of nowhere. The local newspaper was here too, cameras filming us from the sideline. There were some older people around too that I assumed were previous classmates of his. There were also some _old, old_ people who had probably come along to support May.

I had seen May at various points of the day. When the formal ceremony was going on, she had somehow talked to the audience without crying. Maybe it was because so much time had passed that she had had the opportunity to grieve and move on already.

A part of me wished I could talk and express how much I missed Peter… but they would see me as insane. I had never met him before. The only other person in the room who knew was May. If I did say anything it would be about how I solved his case.

And if I was honest, I was tired of all the fame I had gotten already. It was Peter who had helped me solve his murder and I couldn’t even acknowledge his help.

So I sat silently through the whole service, all the way up until they placed his coffin in the hole.

I still wished it was raining.

My muscles were aching by the time it was only me and May left, sitting by his grave. Turns out, standing for a very long time in a stiff position lead to an aching body. Who knew?

We had filled the hole and his gravestone stood there accusingly. Staring at me. There was no picture of him on it.

I missed him.

I missed him with a fierce ache.

“Wade?” May whispered, as if speaking would break the tension in the air.

I looked over. I didn’t have the energy to reply.

“I… I got to say goodbye the day before the prosecution. He… told me to look after you. That… he didn’t think you had a good family-” she started quietly.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” I was quick to interrupt.

She frowned, clearly seeing through my assurances. “Wade, it’s okay to be upset, to not be okay. Look, you don’t have to take up my offer. But… my home is always open to you.”

“Always?” I whispered, studying the ground. I couldn’t bring myself to look in her eyes. I didn’t want to know what I would find.

She put a hand on my shoulder, reluctantly I looked up. She had an almost fierce look of determination on her face, even as her eyes told a different story. They seemed so… lonely...

“Always.”

I let myself smile, a tension draining out of me that I didn’t know I had. It… wasn’t selfish if I stayed with her to look after her. Peter had said he wanted us to look after each other…

Maybe I should be more selfish, just like he said…

“Then… yes, please. I would like that.” I whispered, like it was a secret.

Then she hugged me, making me tense up instinctively. But a few seconds later, I managed to untense enough to relax. It was so… warm and compassionate. Genuine.

It was like Peter’s.

* * *

 

When I got my report card from my teachers, I waited until I was home to open it.

When I opened it up, I was shocked to find how much higher my grades were from last years. From the year before that. From any year of school I had ever gotten a report card on.

I had done well.

My maths results were the highest they had ever been.

I put it on Aunt May’s fridge with pride.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sparkstar-trash), my [Discord](https://discord.gg/5QTeNY2) server or send me a question on [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/sparkstar)!
> 
> All credit for the art goes to the amazing artist! Go check them out on Instagram [@ninja46464](https://www.instagram.com/ninja46464)!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!
> 
> ~
> 
> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. I invite and appreciate feedback, including:
> 
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